


i've been here so (very) long

by HappyCamper27



Series: the ones we hail [2]
Category: Homestuck, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Eldritch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 10:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCamper27/pseuds/HappyCamper27
Summary: A collection of drabbles, outtakes, and AU snippets that the bunnies for the main story throw at me from time to time. Have fun.





	i've been here so (very) long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was initially supposed to be a crack-ish drabble about a Sentinel/Guide AU in the context of the fansession. As you will be able to tell, that did not happen. In the least. Also, mood whiplash.
> 
> Stay tuned for more???  
> Maybe.

Even though we came from a world where people could come online with superpowered senses and psychic abilities, I don’t think any of us really expected to come online during the Game. I mean--who would? Coming online is something for adults, for people like our parents and siblings, people older than us.

Not that Lael or Dale weren’t old enough to come online, but it wasn’t something for us. Coming online wasn’t something that was possible for us. Something out of reach--especially after the destruction of Earth.

Except, given that most of us have come online at some point--that wasn’t true. Obviously.

So, here we are, in the Void, getting ready to make the jump to where the other session’s players are--and Enid is just about ready to collapse from psychic stress, Cyra is about ready to rip anyone who looks at Enid wrong to shreds _because_ Enid’s about to collapse, Dana isn’t faring any better than Enid, and Emer’s about ready to fucking murder somebody.

See, here’s the thing: Guides are psychically sensitive. Especially those who can ground more than two or so senses on a Sentinel.

You want to know what else in the Void is psychically sensitive?

Fucking.

Horrorterrors.

Well, I say that, but it’s really more that Horrorterrors exist on multiple dimensions outside of the comprehension of human minds--even ectobiological ones--and use methods of communication that tend to. You know. Drive people into gibbering insanity.

And psychic sensitivity? That requires your mind to be a certain amount more “open” than psy-nulls. So, combined with the Horrorterrors’s simple existence tending to cause gibbering insanity, let alone their communication, with minds that have less restricted boundaries than normal?

Three guesses as to what happens, and the first two don’t count.

So here we are, the vast majority of all the Guides about ready to collapse--even Elah is nursing a migraine the size of Alaska before it was reduced to fucking dust, _even with her ridiculous fucking shields_ \--and here I am. Ready to transport people. Standing up.

_Apparently unaffected._

I mean, I’ve got that weird prickly feeling right behind my eyes, like when your foot falls asleep, but no pain. It’s _never_ hurt, even when the Horrorterrors are yelling so loud it makes my ears want to bleed.

The prickle fuzzes for a split second, like static electricity before a lightning strike, and the whispers curl along the insides of my mental shields like a caress, _:ours, ours, always ours, in infinity, never hurting--:_

I let my own mind brush briefly against those whispers, assuring even as I glimpse into infinities of void and stars that curl into infinite infinities as the strange song of the Void surges into harmonic dissonance like a symphony ever-so-slightly out of tune on purpose.

“Bran.”

I turn to Emer, seeing his face drawn tight as if from a very, very far way away.

“Yes?” distant, distant.

“What the _fuck_ is going on with Dana?”

I hum, letting the song echo in my ears. The whispers laugh with approval. “Guides are psychically sensitive. Particularly those who can ground more than two senses--like Dana.”

“And like Enid?” Cyra jumps in, eyes sharp with barely hidden violence. _Temper, temper._

“And Enid, yes. And Elah, as well.”

Cyra hisses at me. “Why is psychic sensitivity _important_? What’s going on?”

The song curls in my ears like worms, like eels, like smoke. “We aren’t the only things in the Void, Cyra. Not the only ones who are psychically sensitive, either, really.”

She pulls up short. “...What?”

Emer’s gaze sharpens. “The Horrorterrors. You’re talking about the Horrorterrors.”

I hum, trying to pull myself a little bit closer to the conversation. Distance like this in the Void can be bad, I know this. “Psychic sensitivity means being open to things that human minds aren’t normally open to, even with shields.” My lips quirk into a vague, empty smile. “The Horrorterrors are just of the nature that that openness is a vulnerability.”

“To what?”

Lael’s voice is like a bell rung at the wrong times, threading through the dubious nature of reality in the Void. They look me in the eye, their face tightening with worry at the smile that feels like a caricature on my face. “Vulnerable to _what,_ Bran.”

“The true nature of reality, in the ways that human minds are incapable of comprehending,” I say calmly. The song murmurs, twists, twirls. Bells and chimes and strings, pulling at the fabric of reality. “Or, more simply--being driven gibberingly insane.”

“Then why aren’t you affected?” Cyra demands. “Why not you, but Enid? And Dana, and Elah?”

My smile twists into something uncanny on my face, pulling at my teeth. The whispers laugh, laugh, _laugh_. “Who said I am unaffected?”

Lael’s face goes pale. “Bran.”

I turn to them.

“Get us the _fuck_ out of here.”

I smile ever wider, like an anglerfish ready to eat. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The song surges in my ears, worming ever deeper, like fog and water and maggots.

I reach out, letting the whispers trail along behind the grasping fingers of my mind, picking out every single one of my session-mates and holding their pale fragility in my mental grip.

_I could crush you all to dust with a thought._

I don’t crush them.

I wrap reality around them like a blanket, and tuck them in, and tie them to my metaphorical back as the song whirls in my brain. Bells, bells, bells.

All it takes is a twist of will, pushed along by whispers and laughter and a song that speaks of all reality as a dream and heresy.

I vanish.

\---

turbulentGallantry [TG] began pestering crunchApparatus [CA]!

TG: Okay, I must ask.

TG: What the *fuck* happened with Bran.

CA:

CA:

CA: i don’t know.

CA: somethhing’s wrong, thho

CA: enid, elahh, dana

CA: even jing

CA: were hhaving problems

CA: because of thhe hhorrorterrors

CA: if bran is to be believed

TG: I believe it.

TG: There is a reason we were not supposed to look up on Derse, Lael.

CA: i know.

TG: My question is, why was Bran not affected?

CA: did you see thhem?

CA: thhey were fucking affected

CA: did you see thhat fucking smile

CA: like thhey could eat us all whhole and laughh

CA: thhat’s not fucking *unaffected*, emer.

CA: thhat’s a Guide whho’s a Void player being fucked withh.

TG:

TG:

TG:

TG: I am.

TG: Sorry.

TG: I did not mean it like that, Lael.

CA: you better not hhave.

CA: bran mighht not be thhe original

CA: but thhey’re still hhere

CA: and thhey deserve better thhan thhe shhit we’ve been giving thhem.

CA: better thhan being suspected of hhurting us.

TG: …

TG: ...are you sure of that?

CA:

CA: bran.

CA: is not.

CA: our fucking version.

CA: not the one who went BONKERS.

CA: they went through fucking HELL.

CA: and still came out SANE.

CA: if you think that they’re still a threat, emer.

CA: then fucking bring it.

TG:

TG:

turbulentGallantry [TG] ceased pestering crunchApparatus [CA]!

CA: fucking COWARD.


End file.
